Swing Life Away [Ereri/Riren]

One Last Letter to You

My Dearest Levi,

Where am I supposed to begin when there's so much I want to say, but when words fail to describe how I feel about any of it? I guess I'll have to do my best.

It's been a month, three weeks, and a day since you've been gone now. 52 days, 1,248 hours, 74,880 minutes, and counting. It's been the longest, hardest month and three weeks of my life, and I miss you more dearly than I ever thought I could.

The last morning I saw you, it wasn't really you. I'd woken from a nightmare and immediately searched the empty side of the bed for your presence, for your comfort, only to find cold sheets and loneliness. Ha, I know, I sound so dramatic, but I know you've found yourself in the same situation at least once. And I'm sorry for ever putting you in that place.

I got up. Had breakfast. Avoided the morning news, like usual, and waited for the sun to come up before I left. You were there. You were still breathing, but you were otherwise still. They were keeping you comfortable - no IVs, no oxygen, nothing hooked to you but the tiny sensor to monitor your vitals. Your oxygen levels were low, and the nurse had long since silenced the warning beep of the machine. Your heart rate was steady, but slow. It was only a matter of days, they told me. They said they weren't even sure you were aware of my presence anymore, but I stayed just in case. I told you stories, reminiscing about Charlotte and Peter. About our wedding. Our honeymoon. Our marriage as a whole - our lives together, and how I wouldn't give it or you up for the entire damn galaxy, or more. I don't remember how many times I told you I love you, but it was a lot. More than I can count on both my fingers and toes ten times. And I meant it every, single, time. I sang you songs, though my voice is nothing like it used to be. Though I'm sure if you were here, you'd argue that it's better than yours. But that didn't matter to either of us.

I held your hand the entire day, kissed your forehead on occasion, your knuckles, even your lips a few times just to try and preserve the feeling of them. There were times you would react in the subtlest of ways - pulling in a deeper breath, or your fingers twitching the tiniest bit. A few times I kissed you because I bore a futile hope that you might open your eyes so I could see them one last time.

More than anything, I watched you. Watched you breathe, slowly, and shallower each time. On rare occasions, your eyes would flick beneath their lids. I marveled at the way your lashes rested delicately against your pale cheeks, at the curve of your lips, the softness of your skin, the strength of your jaw, your silky black hair as it was feathered out over the pillow, the hollows of your cheeks...everything I adored about you.

But everything else was what lied beneath the surface. Your strength, as you overcame your addiction; your creativity; your heart and all of the love you bore despite only having just a few people to give it to. So many things that I could fill up a hundred pages just listing them...

Reluctantly that evening, I left. I can't say I didn't know it would be the last time I'd see you while your heart was still beating, but I can't say I did, either. I knew it would be soon, and all I could do was hope you were at peace no matter when it happened.

That night I somehow slept better. I dreamt solely of you. Of us, back at the lake. It was peaceful. When I woke up, I found tears to be trailing down my cheeks, but I got up and ventured back to you as always.

When I arrived, a nurse was posted outside your door, waiting for me to show up so I wouldn't walk in to find you that way without warning. As soon as I saw her grief-stricken face, I knew. I approached her, and she nodded solemnly when I said, "He's gone, isn't he?" We hugged. She told me if I needed anything, all I should do was ask. All I wanted was to see you just one last time, to know you were at peace - know there was truth to what my dream portrayed.